A HELPING HAND by K. Nitsua. Copyright 2020 by the author.
One sunny Sunday afternoon I just had to scratch that itch.
I'd been single for a while and had been quite content being celibate, relieving myself with the occasional solitary jack-off session. That day, though, my hand wasn't enough. I didn't want to socialize or date—I just needed some quick relief.
I was too impatient to search the apps on my phone or the Doublelist ads, low-yield propositions in any case. Besides, it was sunny and breezy out, altogether a pleasant day. I decided to do some old-fashioned outdoor cruising.
In recent years traffic in the city's cruise spots had dropped off drastically. Who wanted to run the risk of being beaten up or arrested when there were so many safer ways to get off? On the other hand, there was the advantage of being able to size up a prospective hookup in the flesh. You could always beat a hasty retreat if a situation threatened to get out of hand. I decided to chance it.
Normally I'd take my big black Lab along with me if I were going outdoors, but today he'd only be in the way. So I left Boomer in the front yard, looking reproachful and doing his best to make me feel guilty about abandoning him.
It was only a short drive from my house down the freeway to get to the park I had in mind. Situated between a much bigger city park and a residential neighborhood, it was small and unprepossessing, just a grassy area surrounded by woods with one or two picnic tables and an ash can, though few people set up grills there.
But what couldn't be seen from the street is what interested people like me the most. The woods sloped down a short hill and at the bottom, oddly, was a short paved road with no outlet in either direction, its original purpose long forgotten. Past it the woods continued, honeycombed by footpaths. In total it made for a pleasant dog walking area if you had an animal, an irresistible landscape for cruising on foot if you had an animal instinct.
Years ago the number of cruisers here, especially on weekends, had been much larger. Police crackdowns and the internet had decimated their numbers. I really didn't have much hope of finding anyone. Still, it was a way to get exercise and less dreary than camping out on the couch at home watching porn on a device.
There were a couple of cars in the dirt lot at the front of the park when I got there, a mildly promising sign. I pulled in, killed the engine, got out of the car and strode across the grassy field. Occasionally a solitary man would be sitting at one of the picnic tables, a giveaway that he was on the hunt, but no one was there today.
I found one of the gaps in the woods that led down the hill to the paved path and clambered down the hill, picking my way carefully over rocks and tree roots. When I came out onto the asphalt I at last saw someone on the path some distance in front of me. I walked toward him, not really trying to catch up, just trying to get close enough to see what he looked like.
He heard me coming and turned. I speeded up a bit to overtake him, nodding briefly, trying to convey that I had no nefarious intent. He was older than me but not bad-looking, with thinning silvery hair and friendly eyes. As I walked past him he paused and caught my eye. I didn't stop, but after proceeding a few more steps up the path I turned and looked back. This was how the game was played. If he was walking rapidly in the opposite direction, or had disappeared from view, that would mean that he wasn't interested. If he was still there, there might be possibilities.
He was still there, his stare frank and open. He smiled, and I saw his hand moving inside one of the front pockets of his jeans, caressing the bulge between his legs. Nice. My breath quickened and I felt a pressure in my own pants. I dropped my hand and squeezed my goods in response. He jerked his head, beckoning me to follow.
We strolled back down the path, me trailing after him at a discreet distance, though there was no one else in sight. Then he turned and disappeared into the adjoining woods. When I got to that spot I saw a narrow trail winding through the underbrush. My man's back was disappearing into the trees some distance ahead. I plunged after him, trying to keep pace while not making too much of a disturbance. We walked for what seemed to me to be quite a way before he stopped and turned. In a flash his jeans were unbuttoned and his exposed cock jutted out at me.
I caught up to him and we locked eyes. I grasped his erect shaft and squeezed it, feeling its hardness and heat. He smiled and reached out to cup my junk through my pants. The next moment he was undoing my belt with practiced ease and lowering my zipper. As soon as he fished my now fully erect organ from my underwear he bent and took it in his mouth. I drew in my breath at the familiar warm, sweet pleasure.
Without letting go of my dick he got on his knees, sucking enthusiastically, taking me down to the root on every stroke. I could easily have let myself cum from his attentions but wanted to return the favor, so after a while I grasped his shoulders and urged him to his feet.
His cock was just as hard in my mouth as mine was in his. I lapped up the salty fluid flowing from its tip. His hand stroked my hair and a faint moan issued from his throat. "Nice," he whispered. "Mm hmm," I agreed, as I continued to blow him.
We changed places and he took me in his mouth again, pulling on his own stiff organ as he stepped up the pace of his sucking. Soon I felt myself getting to the point of no return. "Going to cum," I hissed through gritted teeth. He let go of my cock long enough to reply, "Do it," before he started to slide back and forth on my shaft like a machine, spit running out of his mouth and falling on the ground in long glistening strings. "Oh fuck," I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing his head as I felt the sperm rush through my dick and burst into his eager mouth. My body pitched forward at the waist as the orgasm exploded in my brain. I fought to keep my balance, my chest heaving with release. Below I heard faint gurgles, then gagging gasps as he choked on my load. I looked down and caught a glimpse of his cock, still in his hand, emptying its load in white spurts onto the ground, next to clots of my cum that had dribbled out of his mouth.
He let my softening organ go and looked up at me, his face red, his blue eyes watering, his face stained with saliva and semen.
"Sorry if I was too rough," I said, still trying to catch my breath.
His smile was unexpectedly sweet. "Don't be sorry! You were wonderful." He wiped himself off on his sleeve and stood up. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as me."
I was hurriedly stuffing myself back in and zipping up, aware of the danger of discovery. "I did. Thanks, buddy."
He patted my upper arm, turned away and quickly walked back down the trail toward the paved path. It was better if we didn't emerge together, and besides, there was really nothing to say.
I'd scratched my itch and should have felt better. I didn't really, though. There was an emptiness inside me, as there often was after a quick encounter. The rest of a long boring day still stretched ahead. I didn't want to get off again, but I didn't want to go back home either. Instead of heading out myself I started walking deeper into the woods with no particular purpose.
A little way further the trail crossed a creek bed that nowadays mostly lay dry, a jumble of rocks tumbled by past flowing water, between which grew tufts of tangled vegetation. Bold cruisers sometimes ventured down this draw into deeper woods, but it was a bit of a tricky hike. I was in that kind of mood, though, so I left the path and started clambering over the rocks, stepping carefully to avoid catching my foot in a tree root or vine and going down.
It was good exercise. Soon I was puffing and starting to break a sweat. I had to look down at where I was placing my feet pretty much constantly, so it wasn't until I paused to catch my breath that I became aware of someone ahead of me, sitting on a patch of higher ground that would have been a bank, had any water been flowing in the creek.
As I got closer I saw that he had an animal on a leash, a largish dog of indeterminate breed sitting on the ground next to him. The dog raised its head and saw me first. Whatever kind it was, it was old—its muzzle once must have been black, but was now grizzled and silvery. Its big tail thumped the ground in welcome and I smiled.
Up until that moment the owner's face had been invisible. His head was bowed, one hand supporting his forehead, elbow on one knee. At the dog's reaction to my approach he looked up. He was younger than me by quite a bit, with a head of tousled dark hair. His features would have been handsome had they not been distorted by tears.
I had interrupted someone in a very private moment of grief. My first impulse was to withdraw with a hasty apology. At that moment the dog tried to stand, but sat back down again with a yelp of pain. Something was wrong with the animal, and the instinct of a fellow dog owner kicked in. I climbed out of the creek bed toward the pooch, making cooing noises and stretching my arm out.
"Aw buddy, what's wrong? That's a good dog."
As I sat next to the old animal, trying to console it, I became aware that its owner was looking at me, still sniffling. I'd overstepped, big time.
"Sorry to barge in." I started to get back up, to leave him alone.
